


in my blood

by wowsheshot



Series: golden days. [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Blood, Child Abuse, Kinda, Mild Gore, anxiety attack, but still a minor, domestic abuse, fr cam's aunt sucks, it's kind of there kind of not, not proof read, not really a child he's seventeen, not really tho, we hate emma all the homies hate emma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:40:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26618350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wowsheshot/pseuds/wowsheshot
Summary: When you can't even feel at home in your own home, how can you be expected to feel at home anywhere else?( check tags for trigger warnings + temporary title & summary. )
Series: golden days. [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1829161





	in my blood

The boy rushed to the bathroom, locking the door as yells and screams could be heard from the other room. His rushed breath and heartbeat were loud enough to at least drown them out a little, yet they couldn't do the same when his aunt started banging on the door. Cameron wasn't quite sure how long she kept yelling at him, demanding he'd let her in, before she finally gave up. He did not dare getting out, though. Instead, he let out a sigh of relief, finally feeling safe. Well, safer.

His eyes accidentally grasped a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, just as the adrenaline started wearing out, leaving only the pain caused by the injuries she inflicted on him instead. He took one more step, only to flinch when he saw exactly what he looked like. There they were, the signs of her nails digging into his right wrist, bleeding like never before - or so it seemed. Rivers of blood streaming down his fingers, falling on the floor. The scratches on his left arm joined into creating a crimson-white contrast on the formerly perfectly clean tiles as well. Cameron could see bruises forming too, the slight green and purple colour on both of his arms starting to become evident.

He bit his bottom lip almost instinctively to choke back a sob, tears starting to fall and stream down his pale cheeks. He couldn't help but feel dizzy, likely due to the blood loss. He was not quite certain, however. He quickly turned around, yet he found himself only staring at the door. He should be quick, opening the door. If he stayed there, he would faint and then nobody could rescue him if he was locked in there. He would die, and he didn't want to die like this. Not if it was going to be so painful, and pityful.

Way too many questions started making their way into his head, each one getting him more and more frightened. Maybe Emma hadn't forgived him yet, maybe she will actually be waiting for him... Was she hiding? What will she do, seeing him get out? Will she yell at him again? Will she hit him? Will she kill him? Maybe staying inside would give him a better death. He didn't want to be murdered, not by her especially. He needed to be quicker, he could feel himself get weaker by the second. Was it really the blood? He couldn't have been losing that much blood so fast... How long had it been? Was it minutes or hours? What time was it, even? Too many questions and so little time. He couldn't even bring himself to actually think properly anymore.

Why was his heart beating so fast, and so loudly? Now that he thought about it, he couldn't quite grasp his breath. Was he suffocating or hyperventlating? Maybe a weird mix between the two, if that was even somehow possible? The hand that overed the door handle was trembling so much and, now that he paid more attention, his whole body was. He had felt this feeling countless times before, this overwhelming panic, and yet he could never quite get used to it.

Water. He needed cold water. He looked around hurriedly, his eyes fixing themselves on the sink and quickly turning the handle. His eyes were constantly facing the floor, too scared to catch a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. He knew he was going to look pathetic, crying his heart out at nothing he had the right to cry for. This was nothing. Many people had it way worse than him, it was selfish to cry over it. Stupid, perhaps.

He shook his head, trying to get the overwhelming thoughts inside of his head to shut up, though to no avail. With barely any hesitation, he bent down as quickly as he could possibly manage to, his head now under the running freezing cold water. For a few seconds, until he took it out of there, he felt at peace. Then, it all came back to him at once. The dizziness especially, and way worse than before.

It was a desperate choice, the one to hurry to unlock the door before he felt his body go numb and his vision darken until all he could see was nothing but black.


End file.
